


Something, Somewhere Better

by muses_circle



Series: We All Fall series [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: After episode, Episode: s04e04 Metamorphosis, F/M, Gen, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muses_circle/pseuds/muses_circle
Summary: All I need is the air I breathe, and a place to rest my head.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: We All Fall series [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1059086
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own any of the characters from Supernatural. They belong to Kripke. The girl, however, is all mine. This story takes place after “Metamorphosis” and based on the song "Say (All I Need)" by OneRepublic.

Ask anyone who has ever lived in a southern coastal region about hurricanes, and they’ll tell you the two unspoken truths: know your escape route, and get the hell out of town when a heavy-hitting storm is barreling towards you. The earlier you leave, the better. Otherwise, you’ll be stranded amidst the million other people trying to do the same thing.  
  
Emma scanned the ocean of vehicles on both sides of Interstate 10 and held the steering wheel in a death grip. _Should’ve left sooner. Like the second I heard they were coming._ She sighed and shut off the ignition. No sense in wasting precious gas when she knew she’d be here for awhile.  
  
Reaching into the backseat, where she had crammed whatever she could fit into bags before rushing out the door, she grabbed her emergency radio and turned it on. The weatherman was babbling about Hurricanes Carla and David, recapping their joining together and forming a super hurricane, describing the monster’s dance towards the Gulf Coast region. “People directly in the path of this storm are in grave danger,” he gushed. “Evacuation is mandatory. Repeat, we’re under a mandatory evacuation along the Mississippi Gulf Coast.”   
  
An intense gust of wind pushed along the side of the car, as if to emphasize the oncoming danger.  
  
“No shit,” she muttered and rolled down the windows. The salty sting of sea air rushed into the car, whipping her hair into her eyes. Expletives shot from her mouth as she searched for a hair band among the mountain of possessions she had tossed into the back seat. Her fingers curled around a large piece of cloth that would be perfect for a bandana --  
  
“Hello Emma.”  
  
Emma yelped and jumped in her seat, banging her head against the top of the car. Letting her hair go and rubbing the sore spot, she turned towards the sound of the voice – and stared. A man in a beige trench coat sat in the passenger side, observing her with blue, vacant eyes. He might have been called handsome, but something about him felt wrong, like the person inside the body didn’t belong, and he had no idea what to do about it. She swallowed hard, certain that the man was possessed.  
  
The guy’s head cocked a little to the side, and his eyes took on a curious look. Almost like he could read her thoughts and were puzzled by what he heard. Emma pressed herself against the back of her door and fumbled for the handle. “Who the hell are you?” she whispered.  
  
“Castiel.”  
  
“And that name means something to me because . . .” He words trailed off when she realized who was sitting next to her. Not a demon, then. Rather, that angel, the one Sam mentioned barely three weeks ago. The one who rescued Dean from hell. Her hand fell away from the door handle. “Oh, you’re the angel. Sam told me about you.”  
  
“You need to help Sam Winchester.”  
  
For a moment, Emma regarded him skeptically. What could he know about Sam, anyway? He might be an angel, but that didn’t mean he was omnipotent, right?  
  
However, Castiel continued to stare at her, unblinking, a multitude of questions raced through her mind. _Was he in trouble? Did he need my help? Why in the world didn’t he call and tell me? Maybe he can’t and that’s why he sent this guy?_ Emma took a breath and calmed herself. “Where is he?”  
  
“He’s in trouble,” Castiel replied.  
  
His lack of concrete answers was annoying. “How? What can I do to help?”  
  
The angel looked at her.  
  
 _This is getting ridiculous._ She leaned towards him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m stuck in traffic from hell because I don’t want to get blown away by the uber-hurricane. I’m scared to death, and here you show up with your _Danger Will Robinson_ warnings and expect me to do . . . what, run around in circles until I’m whereverthehell Sam is and discover the truth?” A little breathless from her inspired rant, she backed away and turned to face the windshield. Brake lights lit up everywhere, which meant the crowd was finally moving. Emma started the car and put it in gear.  
  
She felt Castiel watching her and glanced at him. He wore a puzzled look. “Why don’t you listen?” he asked.  
  
 _Why don’t you answer questions?_ “I heard you. Sam’s in trouble.” She shrugged. “That’s kinda normal for a hunter.” Her foot eased off the brake and her car rolled forward in time with everyone ahead of her. “Besides, he keeps saying things are too dangerous and doesn’t want me getting hurt, so how can I help him when he doesn’t want it?”  
  
“This isn’t about hunting, Emma. It’s about his . . . other abilities.”  
  
“The pulling-demons-out-of-people thing? I thought that was pretty cool. Freaky and mind-numbing scary, but cool.”  
  
“It’s dangerous. You have to make him stop.”  
  
Emma snorted. “How? I can’t change Sam’s mind about that. I love him, but I can’t change him.”  
  
“ _It_ will change him if you do not.”  
  
“What do you me–” Emma glanced to her right, confused, but Castiel was gone. The guy seemed to appear and disappear at will, which was a little unsettling. She turned back to concentrate on the slowly moving traffic ahead and thought about his parting words. What was this ‘it’ Castiel mentioned? She figured it had something to do with his ability to exorcise demons – which made her wonder once more on what that could do to him.  
  
How did this power work? Sam had told her once that all he needed was concentration, and the power activated itself. Was it as simple as that, or was something much darker controlling him?  
  
All of a sudden she felt her insides grow cold. The last time she saw Sam, she had felt a darkness coming from him, an emptiness not there before. She didn’t ask him why he seemed different, but now her curiosity was peaked. Had this ability changed him? Did evil plant itself where Sam couldn’t reach it?  
  
The traffic crawled along towards Louisiana and put her already stretched nerves towards the breaking point. “And I’m supposed to help Sam from 500 miles away?” she asked out loud. “Thanks, Angel Boy, for the help.” With one hand, she found her cell phone and punched the number to call Sam.   
  
Sam answered after a couple rings. “Emma, is everything okay?” he asked.  
  
“Fine, considering two major hurricanes are doing the Texas Two-Step towards the coast,” she replied. “But never mind that. Your buddy Castiel just appeared and told me you were in danger.”  
  
Silence on the other end. “Not you, too.”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Did he tell you I’m on a dangerous path and you have to stop me or else?”  
  
 _Something like that, yes._ “He poofed in, told me you were in danger and to help you, and then poofed away. Sam, what’s going on?”  
  
“Nothing, Em. Really, I’m fine, and there’s nothing to worry about.”  
  
But his tone of voice betrayed him: the slight warble of his denial meant he was anything but okay. “Sorry, gonna have to try harder than that, _cher_. Where are you?”  
  
“Leaving Carthage, Missouri.”  
  
“Think y’all would be willing to meet up with me in St. Louis? That’s usually my stopping place when disaster strikes.” Emma heard Sam’s intake of breath and interrupted. “Before you say you’re fine, I want to see that for myself. I miss you, Sam.” On the other end, she listened a variety of sounds – music, muffled voices – and realized Sam had taken the phone from his ear. Had he even heard her last sentence?  
  
She recognized Dean’s low-timbered voice, followed by Sam’s. They seemed to be having a short debate over something. Then, Sam spoke. “We’ll meet you there. Dean wants to hit up Oktoberfest somewhere in Pennsylvania and insists you come with us.” His flat tone suggested that he thought his brother’s suggestion was ludicrous.  
  
“I think I’ll pass this time,” she replied. “Mostly because I don’t know if I’ll have a home to return to after the hurricanes pass.”  
  
When there was no response to her statement, Emma sighed inwardly and tried not to let her frustration with her situation boil over into the idea that Sam didn’t want to talk to her, much less see her. The notion hurt. “Not sure when I’ll get to St. Louis, though. Maybe y’all should go on to Pennsylvania, stop in to see me on the way back.”  
  
“No, we’ll meet you first. See you soon.”  
  
The disconnect sound stunned her. She shut her phone off and tossed on the passenger side seat. _I get why he might not want to have a long conversation, not with Dean around. But he’s never been that rude before._   
  
Emma wished she understood this 180 degree turnabout in Sam’s attitude. Odds were, it had little to do with her – after all, with rumors in the hunter community of something apocalyptic coming, the Winchesters had bigger fish to fry. Unfortunately, Sam’s non-verbal moments usually meant inner turmoil he could not – or would not – acknowledge and work through.  
  
Rolling along at a snail’s pace, her foot firmly planted over the brake in case she needed to stop quickly, Emma wished the traffic would move along. She had to head north, whether the Winchesters were around or not.  
  


  
  
**_St. Louis, MO – one week later_**  
  
Emma watched the flow of traffic from the bakery window, on the lookout for the Impala which would announce the Winchesters’ presence. The mug of coffee she clutched was warm but doing little else to make her feel more alert. Running on seven hours’ sleep over the course of seven days meant she could faceplant the table and sleep for a couple days.  
  
Unfortunately, she couldn’t. Too much to do. People to contact. A new home to find. What she had crammed in her car was all that remained of her former life. Her condo, her parents’ house, the university . . . they were gone. Wiped off the face of the earth. Mother Nature had reared her monstrous head, deemed the Mississippi Gulf Coast unworthy, and destroyed it with the swipe of her hand.  
  
A few hunters had managed to escape, but the stubborn ones who remained never checked back in. Emma could only assume they were dead.  
  
Homeless and unemployed, with only enough cash to see her through the next couple months, she knew her only choice was to cut her losses, take whatever the insurance company paid out, and move on. There was nothing to return to. Sadness grabbed at her heart, but the tears refused to flow. _Plenty of time to have a breakdown. Like after I’ve restarted my life._  
  
And after the Winchesters paid their visit and left.  
  
She stared down at the contents of her mug and frowned. Sure enough, Sam and Dean had chosen to make their trek east, not waiting for her to escape the interminable traffic that followed her north. The only communication she got was a text message from Sam, announcing their arrival in Pennsylvania. No word on whether they would make a pit stop to see her.  
  
While part of her would have been surprised if they had stuck around, another side smarted from the slight nonetheless. Sam was never this silent.   
  
The familiar roar of the Impala rang in her ears, and Emma shook herself out of her sadness. It pulled up to the curb, and Sam unfolded himself out of the passenger side. Emma watched his stiff, long-legged stride into the bakery without so much as a backwards look at the driver. With his face set and back ramrod straight, Emma knew Sam was troubled and angry. She wondered at his demeanor but tried to hide the twinge of nervousness as he sat down across from her.  
  
“Seems like old times, doesn’t it?” She shot him what she hoped was a wide smile and abandoned her lukewarm cup of coffee to the side.  
  
Unfortunately, all Sam did was look at her with a face devoid of every emotion except sadness. “I guess so,” he murmured and looked down at the table.  
  
Emma watched him settle in his seat, her emotions vanishing into the air of disquiet pensiveness around him. Her hands touched his. “Come on, don’t tell me beer and women dressed like bar wenches was boring?”she asked a little jokingly.  
  
The hint of a grin flitted across his lips. “Not for Dean. Probably had the time of his life there since . . . well . . .”  
  
Emma nodded in encouragement. “Probably great seeing him have a good time, huh?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
 _So much for my attempt at light-hearted small talk._ “How are things, with you and Dean?” she prodded, smoothing the pads of her fingertips across the rough skin of his knuckles. “Y’all getting back into the hunting groove? Smooth sailing?”  
  
Sam frowned. “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be an easy transition?”  
  
“Because your body language is screaming turbulent waters, _cher_. You forget, I know you.”  
  
“Em –“ Sam tugged his hands away, but she grabbed his jacket sleeve with one hand.  
  
“Before you protest and tell me everything’s peachy, explain why Castiel told me you were in danger.”  
  
Sam gave her a weary look. “It’s . . . it’s a long story. One you don’t want to hear.”  
  
“Try me.” She pushed herself back and spread her hands out to either side of the table. “Not like I have anywhere else to go. In fact, I can hang out here all day, if that’s what it takes for you to talk to me.” Emma dropped her arms. “And from the weight I see on your shoulders, you look like you need someone to talk to. So spill it.”  
  
He sighed, his face pinched with discomfort. “He told Dean to . . . stop me from using . . . my abilities. Thought I was doing some good, but maybe not.”  
  
 _Come on, Sam, you can tell me._ “You never really explained how your abilities work.” She crossed her arms across her chest and continued to stare at him.  
  
“I don’t know if I should tell you. It’s too dangerous. The less you know, the better.”  
  
“If this is more of your _protect my woman_ crap, save it, Sam. I have learned to take care of myself. I can handle it.”  
  
“Emma, you don’t understand –“   
  
“Then make me understand. Angel Boy wouldn’t have scared the Bejeezus outta me if he didn’t think I could help.” For a moment, she regretted the anger she heard in her voice; Sam looked like a wounded puppy, begging her to stop her line of questioning. If it weren’t for the twinge of relief in his eyes, she would have backed off.  
  
“When I was a baby . . .” Sam began but paused, turned to look at the traffic outside, and then continued. “Azazel, the demon that killed my parents, my girlfriend . . . bled into my mouth. I think it’s where my premonitions . . . and the mental exorcism thing . . . comes from.”  
  
Despite all the things she had seen and heard, Emma experienced a familiar sense of horror thrum through her. “Why would a demon do that to a child? That’s horrible.” She tried reaching out to touch his hand, but Sam pulled away.  
  
“Because they’re evil, Emma. That’s their job,” he replied in a sad, firm voice.  
  
 _Did Sam believe that the blood he had ingested as a child taint him? Make a part of him evil?_ Awareness flooded her brain and pressed her mental panic button. She flashed back to seeing Sam at Bobby’s house – the memory of the darkness she had felt lurking inside Sam. “And by default, you think this demon made you evil?” Emma asked, praying that using his abilities was not generating any harm to himself or his soul.  
  
“Maybe I am evil. I can feel it swimming around inside me, and I’ll never get rid of it. Ever.”  
  
Suppressing the urge to grip his shoulders and shake him, Emma curled her hands around the edge of the table and gripped tightly. “You’re not evil, Sam. If you were, I don’t think you’d be sitting here with me, talking this out.” _God, don’t let him be evil. I love him – how can I feel so much for him if he isn’t good?_  
  
She wasn’t aware of tears slipping down her cheeks until she felt the touch of Sam’s fingers wiping the liquid from her cheeks. “I’m not using my abilities anymore, Emma,” he whispered. “I know it’s dangerous, kinda like throwing gas on open flame.”  
  
Emma focused on Sam’s face – now softer with concern – and fumbled for a paper napkin. _Breathe_ , she commanded herself. _Get it together. He’s not using his abilities. It hasn’t taken him over. He’s okay!_ “I’m sorry,” she replied in a soft voice and dabbed at her face. “So embarrassing to cry in public.”  
  
Sam’s face down-turned into deep worry. “I heard about that super hurricane wiping parts of Mississippi off the map. I’m so sorry, Emma. Please tell me how I can help.”  
  
Her laughter was bitter. “I don’t know how you can. Everything’s gone. Blown into oblivion. No reason to go back and rebuild.” She glanced down at her hands, biting back more tears. “Time to move somewhere new and start all over again. Cut my losses. Right now I’m living in a cheap motel until I can find a job, because I don’t have a whole lot of money. And there’s so many people to call, so much to sort through, I don’t know where to start.”  
  
“Let me help you,” he repeated, this time with determination.  
  
“Sam –“  
  
“How often have you helped me in the past year? I’d probably be dead now if it wasn’t for you. Now let me take care of you.”   
  
His tone conveyed his determination to help her sort through the pieces of her former life, his face filled with sincerity and kindness. Emma felt a twinge of relief over not being alone. “What about Dean? Isn’t he going to want to find another hunt?”  
  
Sam shook his head and held a hand out to her. “Dean’s been looking for an excuse to work on the car. We’re staying.”  
  
That was good enough for her. Emma laced her fingers with his and squeezed them, pleased that he wasn’t going to abandon her to the mess that lay ahead. Having him around for a longer stretch – giving Sam a taste of much-needed ‘normalcy’ – might help her prove to him that he was a good man, that his abilities didn’t define him.


	2. Chapter 2

The place was small – you could cross from the door to the bedroom in half a dozen steps – but it was enough for the moment. Emma surveyed the furnished efficiency apartment she and Sam found a couple days ago, now filled with her few personal belongings, and believed for the first time in two weeks that she could move on from the shattered pieces of her old life, the one that washed away with most of the Gulf Coast.   
  
After one full week of haggling with her insurance and FEMA, Emma had claims filed and waited for an adjuster to contact her with damage estimates and monetary payouts. It would probably be months before she got a response, but Emma didn’t care. She knew the only thing they’d find would be a concrete slab and give her whatever they thought the property was worth.  
  
This tiny apartment – with its shabby furniture and creaky front door – represented a buoy, something to cling to when the tidal waves of emotion threatened to overwhelm her. Sam helped her find it, a temporary home, one she secretly hoped he would consider his as well. It would be all she had left when Sam and Dean left town.  
  
Sam, her strength, the one who stuck around and helped her check off the endless items on her ‘To Do’ list, who threw himself willingly into the role of protector and guide without hesitation. Because of his infectious enthusiasm, she grew contented with the normalcy of their time together. Sleeping by his side at night, waking to his kisses and warmth each morning, even their short disagreements over which TV show to watch. Emma never wanted to let him go.   
  
And yet, she needed to do just that. How else could she pick herself up by her bootstraps and carry on? As tired as she was of tackling the terrors of this world alone, Emma knew that in loving Sam, part of her would always be on her own. They both had work to do, independently of the other. She had survived the devastating loss of her parents, of losing her home – letting Sam Winchester go would be easy . . . right?  
  
Unwilling to consider the idea of Sam’s departure, she focused instead on unpacking the boxes of dishes she bought, pausing at times to watch Sam set up the router for her wireless Internet connection. He looked engrossed in his work. Emma wondered if he might have gotten into computers for a living – had a demon not scarred him for life, and his father not instilled in him an innate sense of justice. Would Sam – of Dean, for that matter – ever settle down and life a normal, _pay-your-taxes-and-take-out-the-trash_ life? Her gut told her no, even though her heart ached for them both to know that kind of peace.  
  
A soft grunt of frustration forced her out of her thoughts. “Sam, that router still being a pain?” she asked with a small grin.  
  
He stood and brushed his hands down his jeans. “No, I just realized I bought the wrong cable. Gotta go back for another one.”  
  
She put down the dishes and grabbed her purse. “Take my car,” Emma said, fishing for her keys. “Who knows when Dean’ll be back from his beer run.” She crossed the room and pressed them into his hand.  
  
Sam shook his head, his eyes serious. “I’ll wait for Dean, Emma.” He took the keys from her but tossed them onto the coffee table.  
  
“Last time I checked, it was still legal to drive another person’s car – so long as you have her permission.” Emma flashed a cheeky grin at him.  
  
Sam laughed and took her into his arms. “Thanks for the tip, Matlock, but I don’t want to leave you alone. In case you need me for something.”  
  
Emma grinned, enjoying the hard muscles of his torso. and leaned into Sam, using her hands to pull his face towards hers, their lips touching lightly . . .  
  
A loud cough caught her off-guard and made her shoot back, out of Sam’s embrace. She saw Dean in the doorway holding a brown paper bag. “Am I interrupting? ‘Cause if you two need some alone time –“  
  
“Shut up, Dean,” Sam said and shot his brother an irritated look.  
  
Dean only grinned in response and set the bag on the counter. “Get your groove on while you can, Sam. Found a case, so we should hit the road.”  
  
“Find a fresh trail on Lilith?” Sam asked.  
  
Emma noticed the eerie gleam in Sam’s eyes and wondered what was going on in his head. There had been no talk of demons or finding Lilith in two weeks; was this ‘business as usual’?  
  
Dean made a face. “Much better than that. Try two healthy guys dead from heart attacks.” As he spoke, he pulled a six-pack out of the bag and grabbed one of the bottle necks.  
  
“Don’t see how that’s such a supernatural thing, dude,” Sam said, sounding a little defensive.  
  
“Both of them were healthy as horses. Seems like our kind of case.” Dean took another sip and sighed.   
  
Sam’s face took on a pinched look. “It can wait.”  
  
Dean smirked at his brother and took another sip.  
  
Watching them was like witnessing a wild tennis match, one she was not sure she wanted to see through until the end. “Guys –“ She tried to interject, but neither of them seemed to remember she was in the room.  
  
“I’m not finished here,” Sam said, motioning to her.  
  
Dean snorted and walked to the refrigerator. He put the remainder of the beer on a shelf and slammed it shut.  
  
Emma could almost hear Sam’s teeth grind together. She noted his jaw locked tight, the muscles in his cheeks twitching. Dean’s devil-may-care attitude was beginning to get to Sam, and Dean knew it.  
  
The tension in the room began to spike, and it made her uncomfortable. “Sam, it’s okay.” Emma moved close to him and laid her hand on his arm, in an effort to ease things. “Dean’s right. As much as I’ve loved having y’all around, I can’t expect you to stay.” _Even though I want you to._  
  
He looked at her intently and tried to smile. “Not until your Internet’s working.” Pulling away from her, Sam approached his brother, hand outstretched in an impatient matter. The message was clear: _I’m not going anywhere. You’re gonna have to wait._  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and tossed his keys to Sam. Frustration marked his brow, a clue that Emma had recently learned meant he was just a few steps away from slugging Sam into next week.  
  
Sam caught them in one hand, and before he strode out the door, turned to Emma and planted a quick, determined kiss to her lips. Before she could recover from the onslaught of feeling from him, Sam left the apartment without looking back.  
  
Shaking her head, unsure of what she just witnessed, Emma moved around Dean and resumed her work on her dishware. Both of them seemed tightly wound and unable to speak of the burning bridge between them. She was sure part of this had to do with Sam’s abilities, though neither of them had spoken a word about it in their entire time with her. In fact, neither of them said much of anything to each other – Sam preferred being with Emma, while Dean worked on the Impala and checked out all the local bars. Noticing the distance between them was painful, but there was nothing she could do about it.  
  
Watching Dean now, moving about the small living area like a bear, troubled her. He seemed so different, quite the opposite of the happy-go-lucky man she had met over a year ago. He jumped onto the couch and, with the remote, began flipping through TV channels, his face stony.  
  
Taking a breath, Emma moved to the couch and sat on the opposite side. “Dean, I wanted to thank y’all for sticking around this week.”  
  
He shrugged. “Sure. Sam would’ve killed me if I dragged him away from you.”  
  
“You could’ve used the break, too.”  
  
Dean only grunted and changed the channel.  
  
Emma regarded him for a moment, debating on whether to tell him about what Sam went through over the summer. Surely, that might help heal the rift that had formed between the brothers. The crease in Dean’s brow, the façade that he was fine made her wonder about whether he was trying too hard to cover up the pain he couldn’t share. Did that have something to do with his anger towards Sam? Emma wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t ask: the eldest Winchester had proven himself to be more stubborn than his little brother on matters of the heart.  
  
Still, it was worth a shot.  
  
“Dean, I feel like I should tell you something . . . about Sam.”  
  
Dean shot her an annoyed look. “Oh God, don’t bring me into another Hallmark touchy-feely moment.” The volume on the TV went up a notch.  
  
A little irritated, she raised her voice over the sound. “I’m not. Sam went through hell while –“  
  
“– I was in the literal place?” he interrupted without looking at her.  
  
Emma nodded, blushing at her insensitive remark. “You know what I mean. Knowing Sam, he hasn’t said anything, either.”  
  
“Right in one.” His eyes remained fixed on the screen.  
  
“Then you ought to know.”  
  
“No, I don’t.” Dean’s voice was eerily calm.  
  
Emma stared at him, speechless for a moment. His face turned emotionless, and she wasn’t sure which was scarier – Dean’s ability to shut himself away, or his apathy over what Sam had endured. “Excuse me?” she whispered once she found her tongue again.  
  
“You heard me. I don’t want to know.”  
  
“Don’t you care?”  
  
“Why should I? Pretty damn clear Sam’s been hiding stuff all along. What’s another infraction?”  
  
 _What in the world had happened between them?_ She grabbed the remote from him and hit the mute button. “Maybe he has good reason.”  
  
Dean pushed himself off the couch. “How is hiding exorcising demons with his mind a good thing?” he barked the question and turned to watch her with angry eyes.  
  
Emma wished she knew the answer to that one. All she could do was shrug her shoulders.  
  
He snorted with derision. “Sounds like you know about it.”  
  
“Kinda saw it with my own eyes and made him tell me.” Emma hoped her casual tone would not betray the rising anger bubbling inside.  
  
Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Awesome,” he snapped and walked towards the window. “You knew and didn’t bother telling me either. Anything else he’s been doing I should know about?”  
  
“You mean, besides losing his mind with grief and trying to do the world some good in the meantime?” she retorted.  
  
“He’s got you sold on the _I’m-saving-people_ angle too, I see.”  
  
 _What else would he do with it?_ She wanted to ask, but watching how agitated Dean had become by bringing up Sam’s abilities frightened her. He was volatile, a term she never would have applied to him before. “Sam’s always been about saving people, just like you, Dean.”  
  
The spark of white-hot anger, of self-loathing and hatred, flared in his eyes, and his already emotionless face turned cold. Emma started at the change and almost asked him what troubled him. Was that aimed towards her? Or was he thinking of Sam? Instinct told her to take a step back.  
  
However, his face returned to normal so fast that she must have imagined it. Dean was a friend, and friends didn’t look at you like you had become the enemy. Her heart sunk to her feet. The Dean Winchester she knew and loved had vanished: maybe whatever happened in hell had burned it away.  
  
“Yeah, whatever,” he growled after a moment and headed for the door. “If Sam comes back, tell him we’re leaving as soon as I get back.”  
  
Emma swallowed back the tears that pricked her eyes. “Where are you going?”  
  
He yanked the door open so hard it shook, and left her in the apartment without saying another word.  
  
Alone, Emma wrapped her arms about herself and squeezed her eyes shut, willing the despair away along with her tears. If things between the brothers did not improve, she was worried both would implode . . . or worse.  
  


  
  
“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Sam asked as they stood together by the apartment door, his arms wrapped around Emma.  
  
Sam’s worried face and serious gaze warmed her heart. A voice inside her head told her that he wasn’t ready to leave – that there were still tasks to complete in his mind before he would consider her safely settled. She grinned and touched his cheek. “You and Dean did everything humanly possible to demon-proof the place,” she joked. “I think I can take care of the rest.” Glancing towards the Impala towards Dean sitting in the driver’s side, she sighed. “Besides, I think y’all have some things to work out, _cher_.”  
  
Sam’s body tensed beneath her hands, but he said nothing. She looked back into his hazel eyes, losing herself there for a moment. Who knew when they would meet next?  
  
A dark look flitted across his face, telling her that the same thought had occurred to him, as well. She shifted her hands to his neck as their lips met in a searing kiss. Tears slipped down her cheeks while their mouths moved together, clinging to each other, unwilling to part. Just for a moment, they were one: breathing the same air, occupying the same space. _I love you_. The promise passed between them, remaining unspoken. Words weren’t necessary.  
  
Emma felt Sam change – the shift from lover and protector, to hunter – and reluctantly ended their kiss and stepped away. “Don’t be a stranger,” she tried to joke while brushing the tears away. “ _Mi casa es su casa_.”  
  
He traced the wetness along one cheek with his finger and nodded, all the while staring at her as if committing her features to memory. “Call me if you need me,” he whispered.  
  
She nodded. With a final parting kiss, Sam turned and jogged to the Impala. She watched as he and his brother got in and pulled out of the parking lot. The car’s roaring engine faded away, and Emma lingered on the front step long after she could no longer hear it.


End file.
